The Princess and The Curse
by Caffeine Induced
Summary: Hermione Granger's life is chaotic enough without the Malfoy family trying to get her involved in their mess. She should have known better than to agree to help them in the first place and now that Draco Malfoy has her in his sights, she's not sure she'll be able to shake him. She's not sure she wants to.
1. Chapter 1 An Unexpected Owl

**CHAPTER 1 AN UNEXPECTED OWL**

Hermione is in the middle of scrounging through her kitchen for something to pass as breakfast when she hears the tap of a beak on her window.

She looks over, expecting to see an owl from Ron or harry but to her surprise it's neither. This owl is larger and almost completely brown.

She opens the window. "Hello, now who do you belong to?"

She tries to pet him but he ruffles his wings indignantly and she huffs, taking the letter from his mouth instead. "I'd give you something to eat but I'm overdo to go grocery shopping."

He stares at her expectantly but she turns her attention to the letter. The wax seal has the letter 'M' stamped on it.

She's had enough correspondents with the ministry to recognize their seal and one isn't it. She can't think of anyone she knows with a name starting with 'M'.

Thinking of the Ministry, she'd better hurry or she'll be late as usual.

She opens up the letter and reads it as she continues her search for something to eat.

_Miss Granger,_

_I am writing to request your services for a project I am unwilling to divulge over paper. You will be well compensated for your work and in exchange I expect complete secrecy._

_Write back with the time and date you can meet and the manor today._

With regards,

Lucius Malfoy

Hermione chokes on a gasp.

After Voldemort was defeated, Lucius Malfoy spent five years in azkaban. He was released not even a week ago. What could he possibly want with her? In what world would that man deign to speak to her?

"This has to be a joke," she says with a half laugh. With no one around to share in her disbelief, she looks to the owl who is still perched on her window sill.

Annoyed, she shuts the window causing the owl to peck at it indignantly, demanding to be let in. Shaking her head she strides out of the kitchen. She's going to be late, she'll worry about this later.

Rushing out the front door she doesn't notice the flapping of wings behind her until she's reached the telephone booth.

She glares at the owl. Clearly he--or she?--has been given orders to return with her response. Grumbling, she digs through her purse and pulls out a scrap of parchment, scrawling two letters on it.

_NO_

She doesn't wait for the ink to dry, instead crumbling it into a ball and tossing it at the bird who catches it deftly and flaps away.

As soon as she enters the ministry, a frazzled looking assistant hurries over to her with a cup of tea in hand.

"Thank Merlin you're finally here Miss Granger," he says. "The minister has cleared out an office for you to use and wished me to extend his thanks for agreeing to consult for us on this case."

"No problem at all," Hermione replies, waving away the comment. "Lead the way and I'll get started right away."

After she's comfortably seated in a dusty office Hermione pulls open the extensive file of an open case on a fugitive death eater. It's been five years since the way but a few of Voldemorts henchmen have still managed to elude capture.

With elections coming up this year, the minister has been taking some heat on the open cases which lead to him hiring Hermione for a pair of fresh eyes to see if she has any ideas what rocks they might be hiding under.

She puzzles away, loosing herself in statistics and habits.

She's finished her reports for about half the stack of open cases when a knock interrupts her train of thought.

"Come in," she says, tucking away some of the more sensitive files.

Harry enters with a smile on his face.

He looks just the same as he did when they were in school, unruly hair and all. The only thing about his appearance that differs is the scar running from his cheekbone to his jaw on the left side of his face.

He got it a few years ago on one of his missions as an auror.

"Hey Hermione, you didn't say you'd be here today!"

"I assumed you would be too busy working."

"I demand an apology," he says, feigning indignation. "I also brought you food since I know you probably didn't have breakfast. Or Lunch."

Hermione glances at the clock, surprised to see hours have passed. It's nearly time for her to call it. Suddenly aware of how hungry she is, she stands and goes around her desk to thank him profusely. "You're heaven sent. I'm sorry I didn't tell you it slipped my mind. Thank you, thank you a million times I haven'teaten since last night."

If two slices on toast can even count as a meal that is. She _reallly _needs to go grocery shopping.

He shrugs, grinning at her reaction. "I needed to get out of behind my desk anyway."

"The minister is really cracking down, isn't he? If he was smart he'd have you heading the charge on his most high profile fugitives. It would make him look good."

"He _is_ smart, that's why he's put me behind a desk for the foreseeable future. My face on the front page of newspapers is not good for him, he already thinks I'm after his job."

"You _are_ after his job," Hermione points out, pulling a sandwich from the bag and taking a bite.

Harry shrugs sheepishly. "It's not as if I'm trying to take it from him, if it was offered to me I wouldn't say no, that's all."

Hermione bumps his shoulder. "It's okay to want things Harry. You would be brilliant at it. You're a natural born leader and your case closure rate is perfect--unheard of for an auror. "

Harry smiles. She's the only person he's told about his ambitions to become the Minister of Magic and Hermione has been nothing but supportive, something he doesn't think he will ever be able to thank her enough for.

"When you talk, people listen. I'll never understand how people continually underestimate you," she says, mostly to herself. "Oh! The strangest thing happened this morning."

"Tell me."

She takes another bite of her sandwich and hands him the letter from her purse. She watches his reaction, his mouth opening and closing three times before he speaks.

"What?" he says intellectually.

"I take it you didn't get one."

"Unbelievable. Even after years in azkaban he still think he can boss people around. You're not going, are you?"

"Or course not, but it does have me terribly curious."

"If he's asking for your help he must be desperate."

She raises her eyebrows, amused.

"I'm not saying your an idiot!" he rushes to correct. "You're brilliant! It's just the Malfoys are gits with all their pureblood surpremacy nonsense."

"Relax, I know what you meant."

They stray into other topics until the clock chimes, signally the end of Hermione's allotted time here. After hugging Harry goodbye and promising to go over for dinner at his house tomorrow, she hurries out.

When she gets home, she is shocked to find Lucius Malfoy standing on the front steps of her small apartment.

She lives in a muggle neighborhood so he is getting more than a few glances from her neighbors because of his clothes.

She almost turns around and walks away but instead lifts her chin, refusing to be intimidated at her own home.

She stops a few feet away from him and he stares at her with an unreadable expression. She takes this opportunity to look him up and down. For a man newly released from Azkaban, he's surprisingly well put together.

He looks as he always had, except older of course . . . and there is something in his eyes too, like a shadow of something hollow inside.

"Mr. Malfoy," she greets, gripping the wand in her pocket. He wouldn't try something with muggles around but the wand is a comfort. in fact she's almost certian a part his release was an agreement that he would be denied a wand for five years.

"Miss Granger, your response to my letter was unfavorable. I've come to change your mind."

"By threatening me?"

"By asking you to name your price. Money is no problem, as you well know."

She scoffs. After the war the Malfoy family was allowed to keep their wealth, thanks to Narcissa saving Harry's life.

"What is it you want me to do?" she asks, curiousity getting the better of her.

"I need you to do some muggle research. Research family trees and report to me relevant facts."

"A muggle-born doing muggle research. I'm sure you have people for that sort of thing."

"As I wrote in the letter, we want this to be kept absolutely confidential."

"Your reputation can't be worse off than it is now," she reasons. "Don't trust your own people to do this research?"

"I only employ the best and no one can do muggle research better than a muggle-born. Miss Granger, I implore you to reconsider."

"You're not going to tell me why you want me to research muggle bloodlines, but if it was something sinister I should hope you wouldn't come knocking on my door for help."

"You have my word there is nothing sinister happening here. My only concern is for my family."

And then she blinks and sees something akin to fear flash across Mr. Malfoy's face. She tilts her head. "You want me to do research and that's it?"

"Yes."

Merlin help her.

"Okay."


	2. Chapter 2 A Lion in the Snake Pit

**CHAPTER 2 A LION IN THE SNAKE PIT**

The next day Hermione goes about her day as usual. Her consulting at the ministry yesterday led to the capture of a death eater in hiding and she received a large check for her troubles.

After stopping by at gringotts to make sure the funds are put into her vault, Hermione decides to read up on muggle current events, spending nearly five hours at the public library.

She finds herself troubled by a law in the process of being voted on and after scribbling down a few things about it she decides to make her own opinions known to the man heading the charge for it to get passed.

Afterwards she goes to Diagon Alley and pops in on George who is handling the chaos of his shop with a huge smile on his face.

"Mione!" he exclaims when he sees her. "Right on time, as usual."

He takes her to the back office and proudly shows her his latest invention, a paper plane that bursts into flames if anyone but the intended person tries to read it.

"You were right! All I had to do was adjust its sensitivity to touch and it doesn't explode anymore."

To prove it he sends the plane flying towards her and she catches it. When it doesn't burst into flames she nods. "That's brilliant."

"Can you take a look at this one for me?" He hands her a bauble that looks like the Hogwarts sorting hat. "It's supposed to sort animals into houses but all it's been doing is shouting 'hufflepuff' at everyone who looks at it funny."

With a giggle she takes the tiny hat into her palm. "Let's have a look . . ."

They take a seat on the floor and go over the mechanics or it, taking apart everything that was done to make it work. In the end they discover that the tiny hat has its brim sewed on backwards and was very grumpy about it.

"The git," George grumbles. "It could have just said so."

Hermione laughs and then checks the time. "Bloody hell, is it that late already? I was supposed to get some groceries!"

George throws himself onto the couch he has for napping on. "I'll get some for you," he promises. "It's the least I could do since you won't let me pay you for helping me with all my inventions. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Hermione stands and pats his cheek. "You'd be just fine," she promises. "And thank you, but I can do it tomorrow. I'm heading to Harry's for dinner, I'll see you later."

Dinner with Harry and Ginny is entertaining, as usual. Ginny dominates the conversation with her opinion on the new recruits she has to work with on the professional quidditch team.

When Harry gets a wistful look in his eyes Hermione gently nudges him, silently asking him if he's okay.

"I miss it sometimes," he whispers. "Not the sport so much as the team we had back at Hogwarts."

Half of them died at the final battle. Gryffindor's were always too courageous for their own good.

Dinner ends at around 7:30 and after wishing them both a goodnight Hermione steps out onto the street and feels a bout of nerves for the last stop of the day.

After a lengthy discussion on her front porch, Hermione and Mr. Malfoy came to an agreement on the confidentiality of her work. Her days are hardly ever free but she finally moved things around enough to dedicate three hours at the end of every day for the muggle research he requires.

Hermione turns on her heel and apparates to street in front of Malfoy Manor. She takes in the imposing structure and fiddles with the hem of her tweed dress.

Something Mr. Malfoy was adamant about was her doing the research in his home to ensure no one stumbles across her doing it and ask any prying questions.

The last time she was here Bellatrix Lestrange used the cruciatus curse on her and carved 'MUDBLOOD' across her forearm.

She must have curse it or something because to this day that scar remains on her arm, no amount of healing spells can getting it to fade. She instead has taken to casting a shark on it every morning to hide it.

"I'm being ridiculous," she says allowed.

That may be a snake pit but she is braver than any snake and as smarter than they would ever admit.

She smooths her dress then strides down the long path leading to the front door which is twice as tall as it needs to be.

She knocks and an elf answers the door, ushering her inside. "Miss Hermione Granger? Everything has been set up for you in the library. Should you need anything else don't hesitate to ask. I've been ordered to get you anything you need. Master Malfoy will return in three hours to hear your report."

"Th-thank you," she says, surprised at how quickly she's shown to the library and immediately focuses on the mountian of books waiting for her.

She turns to thank the elf again but the door shuts behind her, leaving her alone with her work. It's a great effort to tear her eyes away from the shelves and shelves of books.

A single note sits a top the stack waiting for her, explaining what Lucius wants her to educate herself on; the lineage of Russian royalty, living members only. He wants to know anything and everything about them, marital status, age, height, hair color, occupation, their number in the order of ascension.

"The Malfoy's are interested in muggle royals?" she wonders aloud.

After three hours of finding the right books and jotting down anything she finds relevant Mr. Malfoy enters the library, looking impeccable as always.

A man who's spend five years in azkaban has no right looking as healthy as he does. He gives her a short greeting and then begins asking her questions while he skims the notes she's made.

To each question he asks she has an answer and at the end, she finds herself more confused than she was when she started. All of his questions are harmless and he even jots down a few things for himself to remember.

"Will you return tomorrow? I'd like you to research the British monarch next."

After agreeing, Hermione leaves, glancing back at the manor with increasing confusion. What in the world has she gotten herself into? This whole thing is ridiculous!

Once she's outside the wards of the manor she apparates to her front porch and hurries inside, kicking of her heels.

After doing a few tasks around the house she finally lays down for bed when her mind comeing up with possible answers to the question she was subconsciously solving.

He focused on the women, she realizes. He was clever about it, asking meaningless question and tossing in the ones he really cared about.

What is he trying to do? It's almost like he's trying to find someone, but she can't think of a reason any Malfoy would associate themselves with muggles they barely associate with muggle-borns.


	3. Chapter 3 The Denmark Failure

**CHAPTER 3 THE DENMARK FAILURE**

Draco receives a warm welcome from his mother as soon as he steps through the front door of the manor. He returns her hug and kisses her cheek, glad she's not overly upset about what happened in Denmark.

Narcissa is dressed as elegantly as always. Draco can't remember ever seeing her unkempt, not even when their house was open to the savage deatheaters and Voldemort himself.

"Good evening, mother. I'm sorry I'm so late."

"Come, your father is in his study. Won't you greet him?"

Draco stiffens. He hasn't seen his father since he was carted away to azkaban. "I think I'll forgo the happy reunion."

"Draco, your father loves you," Narcissa replies. "I told him what happened with that Denmark muggle."

Draco sighs. He was all set to marry that woman. It has been arranged by both their parents but in the end the engagement was broken off when she found a better political alliance.

"I'm sorry I failed you mother."

"There are plenty of muggles," she replies, her expression tightening at the thought of her son marrying a muggle. "Your father already has someone looking into other royal blood lines. A suitable replacement will be found in no time."

Draco nods, somewhat surprised by his father's actions. When it comes to a choice between their family line ending or tainting their pure blood status, Lucius has made a surprising choice.

"I'm surprised he told anyone what's happening. We aren't ruined yet."

"The girl has no idea what she's working on," Narcissa replies, waving away his concern.

He hums and excuses himself. He has their house elf take his luggage up to his room and declines an offer of food.

After the week he's had, he'd really rather read a book and pretend his life isn't falling apart at the seams.

Now that his father has returned and has taken back his place as the head of house, Draco can do just that.

When he enters the library he's surprised to see he's not alone.

"You're early Mr. Malfoy," the young woman says with out looking up. She's reading three books at once and writing on parchment without looking it it. "I'm not done yet."

He blinks. "Granger?"

She pauses and looks up. "Oh, I thought you were your father."

"Why are you in my house?"

"I'm doing some research," she replies, turning her attention back to the book floating on her left. It turns its own page at her behest.

Draco hesitates, closing the library door behind himself but reluctant to venture further in.

Hermione Granger is in his house and she couldn't look more at ease. He hasn't seen her since the horrible business of his families trial, she looks . . . good.

Her hair no longer looks like a lions mane, it's been tamed into a multitude of shiny brown curls that are actually staying in their allotted ponytail, save for tiny strays framing her face.

Gone also are the baggy sweaters she used to wear. Instead she wearing a surprisingly fashionable and modest purple dress that clearly shows off her curves.

Annoyed at how she's ignoring him as if he's not worth her time, he takes a seat on the couch directly across from her seat at the table.

"My father hired you?"

"Yes," she replies succinctly.

"I suppose it makes sense, though I don't know how he got you to agree. Did he dig up a dirty little secret you don't want anyone knowing?"

Hermione looks up, "You're one to talk about dirty little secrets. Blood curses are a one way ticket out of pureblood society from what I hear."

"Who told you about the blood curse?"

"You did," she replies with a smug grin. "I had my suspicions but of course I couldn't be sure. Who placed the curse? From what I've read, blood curses can only be placed on one's own family."

"You don't know anything about bloodcurses."

"The curse makes it so you will never have children, unless they are with a leader of muggles. A king, or in your case a queen. Really anyone of royal blood will do." She shrugs. "That curse has been forgotten almost to obscurity besides a few old pureblood families. It's designed to bring the downfall of pureblood lines by tainting them in what was seen as the worst possible way. Who cursed you?"

Draco eyes her. There's no such thing as a simple question in pureblood society. Everyone is always trying to get a leg up on each other.

Determining Granger is driven only by curiosity, he says, "My Aunt Bellatrix, before her death of course."

She regards him with an open expression before returning to her work. Draco grabs the first book within arms reach and cracks it open, not paying attention to the words on the page.

"Really though," he finally says, "why did you agree to help?"

He decides not to mention out loud the prejudice of his family towards her kind. They know it well enough, no one needs to be reminded.

"Your father looked afraid when he came to me," she confesses. "I couldn't understand what he had to fear but occured to me it must be something really really important. If I have the means to help people then I'll do it." She scoffs. "I should've know it was because his family's reputation was on the line."

Draco's father has never been one to show fear. Clearly he played Granger for a fool.

"That bleeding heart of yours is going to get you in trouble someday," Draco comments. "As if your Gryffindor bravery hasn't done that enough--and I'm not even going to mention your choice of friends."

She eyes him wearily. "Are you done talking? I need to finish this."

"By all means," he replies, waving a dismissive hand.

They fall into silence. Draco can feel his eyes glazing over the large paragraphs of the book he's holding.

He had been working on the marriage alliance with the Denmark princess for several long months. A small part of his was actually relieved when she called it off, there was something about her . . . She reminded him of his first year self.

All spite and judgment.

The library door is opened again. Lucius shadows the entrance and his eyes immediately fall to Draco.

"Father," Draco greets stiffly.

"Draco, I didn't know you arrived already."

"Just a few minutes ago," he replies. The manners hammered into him since he was a child have him saying, "I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you when you were released. How are you? You look well."

"I'm fine, thank you. I see you've met Miss Granger. I've hired her to help us with our little problem. This whole matter will be solved in no time."

Draco wants to ask him why he's so keen on helping considering his hatred for muggles but he'd rather not hash out their family drama in front of Granger.

"Please stay while she surmises what she's written," his father offers.

Draco nods and move to stand beside his father who is handed a stack of parchment with hazardous handwriting on it.

"The british monarch is a bit complicated," Granger explains. "They ruled at least ten other countries at one point or another. But I only focused on the living and direct line of the queen."

"Save us some time and get straight to the important bit," Draco says, eyeing the roll of parchment she hands to Lucius.

Granger shrugs and produces a second piece of parchment. "This is a list of possible candidates that fit the boundries of the curse. I set age range to five years on either side of you," she tells Draco.

"You told her?" Lucius asks.

"They dont call her the brightest witch of our age for nothing," Draco says.

"Our contract still stands," Granger assures. "I won't breath a word of what I'm doing here. If I did you could sue me for all I'm worth and I rather like my life as it is."

She explains in detail the woman she's indicated on the parchment but expresses her concern on their distance from the crown, no one is closer 60th from the crown.

"Okay, I need to get going. I have to get to the store before they close for the night. I've been meaning to go grocery shopping for three days . . ."

Draco zones out during her rambling but his father nods politely to whatever she's saying and, did he actually just smile?

"Thank you again Miss Granger. Same time tomorrow?"

"Actually, can we push back another hour?"

"Of course, I'll see you then."

Lucius offers to walk her out but she waves away the offer.

"That's alright, I know the way, I'm sure you want to spent time with your son."

Draco is more than a little surprised to see his father is very civil towards her, even polite. More than that, he shakes her hand.

What the hell did they do to his father in azkaban?

Draco watches her curls bounce out of the room and says, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you actually enjoy her company."

"There's something very refreshing about her," his father replies.


	4. chapter 4 The Greek Monarchy

**CHAPTER 4 THE GREEK MONARCHY**

Once Hermione makes it back home, she is surprised to find a mountain of groceries laid out on her kitchen counter with George and Ron arguing loudly about where she stores sugar.

"Are you a bloody idiot? No one puts the sugar next to the stove!" George says loudly.

"I do, and I'm pretty such that jar right there is sugar!"

George lifts the lid. "That's flour!"

"Shit," Ron shoves his face an inch above the opening to get a good look inside the jar. "Did we get anymore flour? That's looking low."

George frown, peering into the jar, his head bumping against his brother's. "I don't think we did. Should we go back?"

"It's closed now," Ron replies. "They ran us off remember?"

With her heart warmed, Hermione smiles broadly and gets their attention. "What's all this?"

"Hey, Hermione! I came by to complain about work but you weren't here," Ron explains. "I was going to sneak some food while I waited but you haven't got a thing to eat! Honestly, I don't know how you can be so bloody brilliant but still forget about the basics."

"I also came by, but I was going to complain about my idiot brother here. Anyways, we went shopping for you," George says. "But we don't know where you keep everything. . ."

She goes over and hugs them fiercely. "I don't know what I'd do without you Weasley's"

After getting over her embarrassment of them having seen what a disaster her home life is, they all set to work putting everything away, only to pull everything out again once they decide a near-midnight dinner is in order.

For the next two hours she forgets about all the Malfoy family and her growing confusion towards them. If she didn't know any better she'd say they were almost civil towards her.

Ron and George leave her house at two in the morning and Hermione immediately sets to work drafting the lecture she's scheduled to give at hogwarts in the morning.

She doesn't get any sleep that night, but she almost doesn't notice since this sort of thing happens all too often. There simply aren't enough hours in the day.

The moment she finishes the speech she gets a look at the time scrambles to get ready. She showers and changes in under fifteen minutes and apparates to Hogwarts border, using the tip of her wand to blow dry her hair.

"My speech!" she cries, feeling around for it in her robe pockets.

She apparates back to her house and after a scuffle with the leg of her coffee table, she finds the scroll on the couch. Once she's back at Hogwarts she hurries inside, practically sprinting.

She ignores the wide eyed stares she receives from the students. A few of the older ones call out greetings to her and she recognizes some as the younger children who attended while she was a sixth year.

Head Mistress Mcgonagall gives her a severe look, studying how frazzled she must seem.

"The student will arrive for breakfast in half an hour, are you ready?"

"So ready," she assures her former professor.

Mcgonagall contacted her some weeks ago, asking her to prepare a little speech for the students of hogwarts. Every year, when the anniversary for the final battle comes, a shadow always seems to fall over the school.

Only the older classes attending lived through it but the younger years hear stories. Hermione has been asked to offer them some advice and maybe clear away their worry.

Hermione tells them they are brave, and intelligent, and kind, and strong. She tells them the darkest years of hogwarts have passed, and that memories can not hurt them.

Once she's finished she stays for breakfast, seated with the professors which she finds to be a great honor.

Neville Longbottom is seated beside her and she engages him in a conversation about how he spliced two hostile plants together and it bloomed flowers.

Anything to distract herself.

She visits Hogwarts often but no matter how many times she comes she can't help the flashes of memory that cut through the happy chatter of students. She can't help it when the scraping of chairs on stone is replaced with the thunderous sound of the walls crumbling.

Despite her misgivings, she stays there the whole day, passing the time in the restricted section--with permission for a change--and researches memory spells.

The time is wasted. She knew her search would bear no fruit but she had to try.

"Miss Granger," Headmistress Mcgonagall catches her before she steps outside. "Thank you for you lovely words, I believe you've gotten through to them."

"It was nothing."

"My transfiguration professor is retiring next year. I would like to offer you the position. The students already look up to you and I can think of no other witch better suited."

Hermione smiles, genuinely surprised and pleased by the offer. "Thank you Headmistress but I'm not looking for permanent employment. If you do need me to give another speech or some lecture I'd be happy to."

She gets to malfoy manor and goes to the library. She does research and for two more days it goes by the same way. She doesn't see Draco again until the third day. He's already in the library when she arrives.

God he's handsome. His face isn't set in a perpetual sneer anymore, his hair no longer slicked back instead carefully styled to look wind blown, and there something about the way he carries himself that makes her too aware of her own posture.

For some odd reason she hadn't thought she would run into him at all. No one has seen him for years and suddenly he's returned. She wonders if the gossip journalists have noticed his return yet.

"Good evening Malfoy." Calling him Draco is just too weird, and there's no way she's going to call him Mr. Malfoy.

He drags his eyes away from his book. "Good evening."

And then they're silent. He returns to his reading and she turns her attention to the new task awaiting her. Today she's mapping out the Greek monarchy.

She nibbles on her bottom lip. This was inevitable of course.

She doesn't even need to crack open a single on of the books laid out for her. Although disowned, Hermione is very well versed in her mother's family tree.

It takes her all of fifteen minutes to map out the family tree. There is only one suitable candidate.

"Can I ask you something?" she ventures timidly.

Malfoy doesn't give a response one way or the other.

"What will happen to your wife?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"What will her life be like? Will she be a part of your everyday life, someone you have a relationship with, or will she be a stranger to you and the magical world?"

"I haven't given it much thought. Anyways, my wife would be none of your concern and it certainly won't matter if I can't find a woman to marry. Speaking of, shouldn't you be working?"

"I'm finished," she replies. When he doesn't answer any of her questions she tries again. "You wouldn't . . . hurt her though, would you? I know a muggle isn't exactly your first choice for a wife."

Malfoy's head snaps up. "I'm not a monster Granger. Whoever I marry will be, above all, my wife. That would make her a Malfoy and as her husband it's my duty to protect her."

She doesn't need to ask him what his wife would need protecting from. His pureblood friend won't take his news well when they find out.

"I just wanted to make sure," she says when she notices his jaw clenching. "I didn't mean to offend you."

He again doesn't respond but it's the lack of a biting response that makes her think he has accepted her apology.

When her eyes land on the cover of his book she lights up with excitement. "You're reading _A Witches World_? I adore that book! What part are you on?"

Malfoy sighs and closes the book, recognizing the light in her brown eyes. She's not going to leave him alone anytime soon.

"I'm on the bit about the servant who's trying to blackmail the Lord. I've read this book a dozen times though, it's one of my current favorites."

Hermione goes over and takes a seat on the couch beside him. She doesn't notice his uneasiness at her sudden proximity, instead launching into an explanation of her favorite part in the book.

After a few minutes Draco has relaxed again, caught up in their debate of the book. Their shared appreciation for the book eventually reaches a crossroads and they end up arguing about the message the author was trying to convey.

"He's saying love conquers all."

"No he isn't," Malfoy replies. "He's saying love can _endure _all. When Samuel and Dariah marry they aren't accepted into high society, they fall to the middle class where they stay until death. Love isn't a weapon it's a sheild."

Hermione blinks, caught off guard by the way his mouth looks when he says the word 'love.' "Yes, I suppose that makes more sense."

Draco smirks triumphantly.

"Don't let it go to your head, Malfoy. I'm still smarter than you."

"True, but that's about the only thing you've got on me. I'm more successful, handsome, rich, charming."

Hermione rolls her eyes but before she can retort Mr. Malfoy enters. Hermione blinks, surprised how fast the time passed. Did she seriously just spend three hours talking with Draco Malfoy--_and enjoy it?_

"Good evening Miss Granger," he greets.

"Good evening," she replies, going over to shuffle through the papers scattered on the desk until she finds the family tree. She hands it to him and Draco comes over to look at the paper along side his father.

"The Greek monarchy was abolished 16 years ago, I'm not sure if that will work with the curse."

"I've looked into it and the Greek monarchy still qualifies. Royal blood is royal blood," Lucius replies.

Hermione nods. "In any case, Greek royalty is small in number, even smaller when the necessary deductions are made."

She leans against the desk and watches them scan the page. "There's three single women but only one of them is an appropriate age. Beatrice Nadine Castlellanos. Her father is the son of the last Greek king. If their monarchy was still in place she would be 4th in line for the throne, behind her father and two brothers. If the Castellanos' still ruled she would be call a princess."

They find the name and study the information Hermione jotted down about her. "Their family is all about tradition," Hermione warns. "They aren't royalty anymore but they live like it. All marriages are arranged by the parents, usually for political reasons."

Hermione has never personally met her cousin but from everything she's heard, the 18 year old is very sweet.

If Draco marries Beatrice then Hermione will be kind of related to him. She shudders to think it.


	5. Chapter 5 Jean Castellanos Granger

**CHAPTER 5 JEAN CASTELLANOS** **GRANGER**

Beatrice Castlellanos has bushy black hair and big brown eyes that Draco finds to be slightly disarming even though the lift of her chin clearly contradicts any warmth in her eyes.

He arranged a meal with her yesterday to which she agreed to after Draco made his intentions very clear.

Although she came off as playful and shy in her responding letter, the young woman dives right into business before they have even ordered their meal.

"I'll be blunt Mister Malfoy, I'm not going to marry you for two reasons. One, the only thing you can offer me is money, and two, you are british." She takes a dainty sip of her water and smiles kindly. "I have plenty money of my own and your birthplace will give me a bad reputation. The last thing I need is for people to think I'm going to pull a stunt like Aunt Jean."

Draco nods, taking the blow to his pride with grace. He's been rejected by more muggles than he cares to admit. At least this one had the decency to do it to his face.

"Your aunt Jean? I thought her name was Cassandra. She was a pillar of the monarch from what I understand. Very respectable."

"I see you've done your homework, but I'm afraid you weren't very thorough. The late Cassandra was my aunt by marriage. My Grandfather had three children, two sons and a daughter. It's that aunt to which I refer."

A whole other branch to the Greek monarch? He's surprised Granger missed it.

"She was disowned. It was quite the scandal. It all happened before I was born. From what I've gathered she apperantly broke off her engagement to a Bulgarian price and ran away to England to marry some commoner."

"That's . . . unfortunate."

"My grandfather was so furious he forbid anyone from speaking her name for ten years after that. Can you imagine? Jean is such a common name."

"Did she ever have children?" Draco asks, his mind flying with possibilities. If Beatrice's aunt has a marriageable daughter, maybe they'll be more inclined to accept his offer with their disgraced status.

"I wouldn't know," Beatrice replies. Seeing his interest in the topic, she offers, "I can write down her address for you if you'd like. Last I heard they're living in London. You can look them up when you get back."

After enough time passes for Draco to part company with Miss Castellanos without seeming rude, he does so and apparates into muggle London.

His hunt for a wife has given him the barest hint of familiarity with the muggle world so he has no problem finding the house indicated to him in a small slip of paper.

He's in a very nice neighborhood with two story houses and white picket fences. The muggle dream, as he understands it.

Centering himself, Draco steps up to the front door of a generic house and is disappointed to see clear signs of no one living here.

"Help you with something?"

Draco looks over at a man in his mid forties, peering at him from over the fence dividing this property from his.

"Yes, I'm looking for a woman who used to live here. Her name is Jean Castellanos."

"Last people who lived there were the Grangers. I'm afraid I don't know where they've gotten off to. Left without a word one night a few years ago. No forwarding address or anything."

"The Grangers?"

"Yeah, Henry and Jean Granger. Lovely couple. They did all my dental work for free on account of me always mowing their lawns in the morning and keeping an eye eye out for their packages.

"Did they have any children?"

"Oh, yes, yes. Hermione. I never saw much of her though. She spent most of her time at some posh boarding school out of country."

Draco blinks.

"To tell you the truth she always seemed a little off to me. Had that look in her eyes, like she knew something you didn't."

His mind spinning, Draco remembers how Hermione didn't crack open a single book that last week. And how quickly she finished writing down the Greek lineage.

"Hermione Granger," he says aloud, if only to solidify the truth of it. "Bloody hell."

Later, when he thinks back on it, he will not be able to remember how he ended up back at the manor, storming into his father's study in a rare display of bad manners. He also won't remember the concern his father showed at his son looking overly pale, out of breath, and unable to form coherent sentences.

"Son, wait a moment. Collect yourself," Lucius snaps.

The strict tone immediately has Draco straightening his spine and doing as his father says.

Lucius has their house elf summond Narcissa and while they wait her arrival Draco forces himself to get his thoughts in order.

Narcissa breezes in, immediately placing a hand on her son's forehead. "Are you ill darling? Shall I have the elves get you a potion?

"I'm fine mother," he says, scowling at how she occasionally reverts to treating him like a child. "I've stumbled upon some information that could be beneficial to our curse. Father, you said royal blood is royal blood, correct? If a princess married a commoner the blood of their child can still be considered royal for our purposes?"

"Yes, the blood can be deminished up to a quarter royal for it to still qualify."

"And if the this child were to be a witch, do they still qualify?"

Lucius nods, his eye alight with new possibilities. "Most certainly."

Draco exhales slowly. "That's brilliant, because I think I just found the answer to all of our problems. The Greek king disowned his only daughter when she married a commoner from London. They have a daughter who turned out to be a muggle-born witch."

"But who?" his mother demands.

A house elf knocks and ipens the study door. "Master Malfoy, I've brought in Miss Hermione Granger as requested."

Draco stares at her for three whole seconds. "Her."

"Am I interrupting?" she asks. "I was about to get started mapping out the next royal line for you."

Draco says, "Why didn't you tell us about the disowned branch of the Greek line?"

"It-it's irrelevant. How did you--"

"I had a very enlightening conversation with Beatrice Castlellanos. She has a disowned aunt who married a London commoner. I dig some digging and learned they had a single child--you."

Granger blinks owlishly and when it's clear she's not going to say anything, Draco insists, "I'm right aren't I?"

"Well, yes."

"This is perfect!" Narcissa says with pure delight. "She has the royal blood of muggles _and_ she's a witch! We may still salvage our reputation, don't you think Lucius?"

"A muggle-born witch is at least better than a simple muggle," Lucius says. "Our grandchildren will at least have magic and as for their blood . . . I can make sure no one asks too many questions."

"Bellatrix never told anyone about the curse, I'm sure of it, and only I was present when she cursed Draco," Narcissa agrees eagerly.

"You can't possibly keep it secret," Draco says. "You know how nosy our people are, besides she's the most famous muggle-born witch alive."

"Nonetheless, in a few generations our pureblood name can be fully restored once this unfortunate incident is forgotten."

"She's not hideous either," Narcissa adds, looking Hermione up and down. "Our grandchild will be beautiful and combined with the Malfoy name he will have the world at his feet despite the inherent disadvantages."

"He'll need a good strong name aswell," Lucius says. "Something that stirs respect. Perhaps Drec--"

"Hey! You can all just stop right there!"

All three Malfoy's turn to Hermione who has shifted from nervous to furious. Her flushed cheeks and the scowl on her face remind Draco of their school days, how easy it was to make her angry.

"I'm _not_ going to do anything for you people, certainly not bear little Malfoy children! I can't believe I actually tried to help you, that I-- Merlin! I actually felt sorry for you! I thought you all might have learned your lesson after the war but NO! You're all still just a bunch of pureblood supremacists who don't care about anyone but themselves! I've never been so _disgusted _by anyone IN MY LIFE!"

And with that, she storms out of the manor. They all know better than to chase after an angry witch.

Only now does it occur to Draco how he never actually asked her to marry him and she would obviously say no. She hates him.

He and his parents stare blankly at the door and Lucius is the first to speak. "We'll continue this discussion in the morning. She would be a fool to turn us down."

Draco shoots his father a bitter look. Clearly he doesn't know how stubborn the woman can be. Draco excuses himself and heads upstairs, deciding to take a bath to help him unwind before bed.

He dreams about Hogwarts.

He dreams he's being sorted into his house again and the entire room full of students starts to boo him. When he focuses on individual students, their young faces flicker and are replaced with how they looked on that last day, dead and bleeding.

In the morning during breakfast, Draco deems it a good time to bring up last night's events. "I'm going to speak with her today, see if I can't smooth things over."

"Not to worry," his mother replies. "We are handling everything with the Granger girl."

"Really?"

"Yes," his mother assures. "She's in the dungeon."

He chokes. "The _dungeon__!_ What the bloody--"

"Do not use that tone or language with your mother," Lucius warns.

Narcissa lays a hand on her husband's shoulder and says to Draco, "We will let her out once she agrees to marry you."


	6. Chapter 6 Dangerous People

**CHAPTER 6 DANGEROUS PEOPLE**

Hermione may or may not have blacked out with rage once she arrived at the Malfoy Manor. I happened somewhere in between the part where Narcissa was sizing her up like a prized lamb and Lucius was talking about a grandson because _I'm_ sorry--but WHEN the bloody hell did she agree to marry into their family?

One minute she's standing in front of them while they discuss her future and the next minute she's storming out the front door and sprinting down the long path of their front lawn, desperately reaching the end of their wards.

Once she's back in the safety of her own home she throws herself onto the couch, wincing at the book digging into her stomach.

Buring her face into the arm of the couch she let's out a long winded rant. "Stupid bloody Malfoy's . . . Can't believe I . . . Going to hex someone . . . Malfoy children? As if I would . . . so thanks for this mom . . . deserve this and worse for what I did . . . A Malfoy? . . . Never . . ."

Eventually her muffled rant stops making any sense even to herself but once she's finished she take a deep breath and feels much better.

She needs a plan. Plans are good.

The best thing to do in this situation is cut complete contact with the Malfoy's. From this moment on she will not see them or think about them. Their names will not be utter within hearing distance for as long as she lives!

"No Malfoy is going to tell me who to marry," she mutters indignantly.

Naturally, she gets kidnapped.

When she gets up off the couch a spell strikes her from behind and knocks her out cold. When she wakes up she can't say for sure how much time has passed but it's enough for the charm on her arm to have faded, her scar fully on display.

Also, she's in a dungeon.

Maybe it's her desire to think the best in people that has her struggling to understand what's happening. Or maybe she's just a fool.

Either way, the answer to her captivity arrives dressed in an immaculate suit and shiny shoes.

"You slimy, deceitful, sorry excuse for a wizard!" she shouts. "What the hell is this? I refuse to marry you and now I'm to be your prisoner?"

But Draco looks as shocked to see her as she is to be here.

"Granger," he says hurrying over and examining the lock on the door. "I'm getting you out."

"You should be grateful," Narcissa says, stepping into view with her husband at her side. "Your kind can only dream of marrying into such a prestigious family."

Draco forgets about getting the door open and is wearing the same disbelief on his face as Hermione, though hers quickly melts into fear.

The pair standing there with their platinum hair and masks of indifference have her taking a too-long moment to fully process what Narcissa is saying. Hermione gets flashes of a different time, when they were with Voldemort and they would have killed her without a second thought simply for being who she was.

Unaware of the memories flooding through her, Lucius says in a reasonable tone, "We're offering you security, a chance to have a child, and the honor of being considered part of our family."

"Fuck you," she spits, blinking away the past. "My absence will already have been noticed. I'm a bloody hero and you can bet your sorry reputation the entire force of the ministry will be coming down on this place any minute."

"Don't be so dramatic," Narcissa says with a smile. "No one knows you are here."

"Let me out!"

"This is getting way out of hand," Draco says, desperately trying to figure a way to pacify everyone. He identifies Lucius as the more reasonable parent. "Father, let her out."

"We will when she signs the marriage contract I drafted."

Hermione's near paralyzing fear shatters and her Gryffindor heart sends a bit of bravery back into her veins. "I wasn't asking for permission," she hisses.

_Alohamora_. With a single wordless spell crisply brought to the forefront of her mind, the door of her cell clicks free.

She steps out but her relief is instantly overshadowed by anger towards Narcissa and Lucius who don't even have the good sense to look afraid of her.

Maybe they have a right not to be. She has no wand, she is outnumbered, and yes: _no one knows she is her_.

"Let her through," Draco commands before she has the chance. "Mother, father, I know you think you're helping me but you're only making things worse."

"Not until she agrees to marry you. Sign here, girl."

Hermione grabs the contract and Narcissa's smug expression hardens when Hermione looks her dead in the eyes and rips the contract in half and catches it on fire with another wordless spell.

"I have seen worse things in this life than the two of you. I will not be bullied and you _will _let me leave here at once," she says, pouring as much steel into her voice she can muster.

"My wand." Hermione extends her hand and to her surprise Lucius gives it back to her. He's looking awful smug for a man who has just kidnapped a war hero.

"Leave if you wish but you will marry my son eventually."

Oh, she could strangle him. She tightens her grip on her wand. "You are going to regret this."

"I can't imagine you will be well received once word gets out you attacked two unarmed wizards," Naricassa says.

The woman clearly has much too high an opinion of herself, Hermione decides. The world doesn't belong to the likes of her anymore.

"Something tells me no one will object once they hear what you've done to me." Hermione isn't going to use magic against them. She doesn't need to. In this situation she now holds all the power, they just don't know it yet.

"Oh I'm not too worried about that," Lucius says. "Under the terms of our contract, you are not allowed to speak to anyone about what goes on inside this house or why you are here in the first place."

"This unfortunate incident falls snugly into that catagory," Narcissa says with a delighted giggle.

"So you see, we can keep trying to . . . persuade you in increasingly creative ways or you can save us all a bit of time and marry Draco."

"You are forgetting about the claus ensuring my safety under your roof," Hermione snaps. "You broke our contract the minute you and your lunatic wife kidnapped me. I am now free to speak of the curse to whoever I damn well please which means I can easily explain to the Minister of Magic my situation. Congratulations! You just bought your family a one way ticket to Azkaban."

With a disgusted glare she shove her way past the couple and throws herself up the stairs and hazardously tries to navigate her way to the front door.

Logically she knows the Malfoy's--although clinically _insane--_pose no physical threat to her. She has stronger magic and she has leverage preventing them from keeping her here.

But the adrenaline rushing through her veins tells a different story altogether.

Her scar is throbbing like the day she got it, she can hear the scathing voice of Bellatrix Lestrange echoing in her mind and everywhere she looks sends a jolt to her brain, her instincts screaming this place is dangerous.

She can hear Draco Malfoy calling her name but if she stops to look back she's certain she will kill him and his parents on the spot. She latches onto her steadfast intelligence and listen when it tells her to just get out and breathe before she does things she can't ever take back.


	7. Chapter 7 The Merciful Hermione Granger

**CHAPTER 7 THE MERCIFUL HERMIONE GRANGER**

Minister Shacklebolt is a personal friend of Hermione's. On top of employing her for consultations on open cases, he has also been known to discreetly ask her opinion on new laws and regulations.

If Hermione were a less humble person, she could go as far as claim she's something of a master behind the curtain.

When she arrives at the ministry she's allowed in to see him almost immediately and once she's seated in the chair across from him she calmly explains the kidnapping she endured.

Kingsley is very good at his job and immediately starts spouting out his ideas for the trial. "They will never see the light of day again," he assures. "Lucius was on his last leg to begin with. He couldn't go more than two weeks without getting into trouble."

"I don't want a public trial," she says.

A public trial would be front page news and she has worked hard to get her life to the point where she can walk around Diagon Alley and not be gawked at.

Kingsley pauses. "All cases that have a potential for time in Azkaban must be open to the public. It's the law. Without a trial, the Malfoy's can't be sentence."

Hermione frowns. "Then I want Narcissa Malfoy's magic use monitored and I want a restraining order on the both of them."

Kingsley nods. "I can do that. Those reports you did on my open cases have resulted in three captured already. Three! Won't be long before we have all the runaway deatheaters rounded up."

"One more thing? I want a bit of their hair."

**oOoOo**

Hermione makes an impromptu visit to Australia. After the week she's had she could use the comfort of her parents more than anything.

She apparates onto the suburban street, glad the dark has covered her arrival because her mom is out in her front porch, sitting alone with a book in her lap.

Hermione wishes she could tell her mom about all her problems. She wants her mom to hug her and tell her everything is alright.

Instead she casts a disillusionment charm on herself and takes a seat on the sidewalk across the street, not daring to get any closer to her dear mother.

She used an advanced memory charm on her parents at the start of the war with Voldemort--but when it was all said and done she couldn't undo what she did to them.

Hermione ended up having to run out of their house because they called the police on her. If her mom were to see her she'd recognized her not as her daughter but as the crazy woman who broke into her house and attacked her and her husband. Seven times.

In the end, her efforts to get their memories back broke her father's mind. He's a long term resident of the hospital. He's never going to wake up.

So Hermione doesn't dare get any closer. Instead she sits and drinks her mom in, committing her every action to memory as if it can somehow make up for what she's done to them.

**oOoOo **Draco **oOoOo**

It takes nearly an hour before Draco is calmed enough to speak with his parents without seeing red.

"What were you thinking?" he asks, his voice deceptively calm.

"I admit I make a mistake overlooking the little loop hole ensuring she not be harmed."

"No, your mistake was thinking you could up and kidnap someone!" Draco brings a hand to his hair, mentally chanting to himself to stay calm. "It doesn't matter you thought you could get away with it. You can't threaten everyone to get what you want, you're not a deatheater anymore."

Lucius nods, though his hand ball into fists. "I apologize if I overstepped I'm simply trying to help you the best way I know how."

"This curse falls on me, alright? From now on neither of you are allowed to concern yourselves with my search for a wife. I will handle it."

His mother looks like she very much wants to argue with him on this point but his father oars her arm and mutters to her about a chance for Draco to prove himself.

Draco pretends not to hear and glances out the large windows, spotting a figure coming down the long path to their front door.

"Oh fantastic! Here comes the Auror to take us all away."

"Now now, I'm sure if we simply speak to the minister we can get all of this sorted out."

"You can't keep throwing money at all your problems either," Draco snaps. He squints out the window as the figure draws closer.

_Of couse _it's Harry Potter.

Draco's been gone for years and since his return he's not been welcomed back by any of his actual friends. Instead he got Granger and now Potter. If Weasley shows up he might loose it.

"Pull yourselves together," he says to his parents, ignoring their offended expressions, "the golden boy is herw and we will _not_ do anything to provoke him. He's alone so we may not be going to Azkaban just yet."

If they respond he doesn't hear because then there's knocking at the front door. Draco rushes to the foyer where the house elf is already speaking will Potter.

"Do come in Potter," Draco says, forcing a tight smile. "I take it the ministry has sent you."

He nods and steps inside. "I have a formal letter from the minister himself. You can read it over If you like but it basically says I'm to confiscate Narcissa Malfoy's wand pending an investigation into allegations made against her and her husband. Is she here?"

Draco takes the envelope and gestures for Potter to follow. Addressing the house elf he says, "Donna, bring tea to the red room please."

"Not necessary. Neither of us wants me here longer than I need to be."

Draco takes him to the red room where his parents are seated with poise, having a casual discussion about the weather.

"Mother, this is for you." Draco hands her the envelope and adds, "Your wand is to be confiscated."

Her hand tightens on the letter but she quickly relaxes. "How long will this go on?"

"Until the minister decides otherwise," Harry replies.

She brings her wand out with a flourish and hands it to her son who intern hands it to Potter.

"Mrs. Malfoy you are to be escorted everytime you leave the property," Potter says. "I have a letter for you as well Mr. Malfoy. Seeing as how you don't have a wand to take you will be confined to the property until further notice. Should either of you be detected using magic while under probation you will be sent to Azkaban."

"Perfectly understandable," Lucius replies.

Potter hesitates and glances at Draco who raises an eyebrow. "If that's all, I'll show you out."

"I need both of your signatures," he says, pulling out yet another letter.

Once they've signed he tucks the paper back into his robes and shifts uncomfortably. "Good, now I need a lock of hair from both of you."

This is where Lucius starts to protest but in a surprising twist, Narcissa is the voice of reason and convinces him to do what is asked.

Fully convinced his parents might change their minds any second and go crazy again, Draco doesn't relax until Potter is walking back out of the house.

"Did she tell you what happened?" he can't help but ask.

"Every word," Potter replies. "And to be clear; if you try to pull anything you'll be in the same boat as your parents. Better yet, stay away from Hermione all together."

Well, if she really wanted that she'd have put him on probation with his parents to begin with . . . _Right?_

**oOoOo **Hermione **oOoOo**

Her privacy is something Hermione values a lot. Ever since the day Voldemort was defeated people have tried to yank her into the limelight alongside Ron and Harry but she resisted relentlessly to the point where her name isn't common knowledge to the Harry/Voldemort story unless someone has a first hand account of it.

Subsequently a majority of people seem to have forgotten she was once revered as the brightest witch of her age. Namely the Malfoy's. Should they come for her again after today, she will not hesitate to remind them in a lasting manner.

"Did they give you any trouble?"

"No," Harry replies. "I was hoping they would but they were actually, civil? Malfoy's father threw a fit when I asked for their hair though."

He watches her sprinkle said hair into her small cauldron bubble with pink liquid. She stirs it in a specific pattern and the liquid slowly turns as clear as water.

"Will you tell the minister he can lift their probation whenever he'd like? I've got what I need."

She removes one of her rings and dips it into the potion three times before using a quick dry spell and slipping it back on her finger.

"What potion is this?" he asks.

"A variation of a shielding potion."

"Variation?"

"This one burns a little."


	8. Chapter 8 Sins and a Bleeding Heart

**[**Not gonna lie, I forget about my ff stories for very long periods of time. This one's for you Irina Asakura.**]**

**CHAPTER 8 ****SINS AND A BLEEDING HEART**

At any given time Hermione has three cauldrons stewing with experimental potions which she likes to throw random ingredients into and record the immediate and long term effects of.

One of said potions exploded last week and took out most of her potion ingredients with it so today she's finally decided to get her life together and restock the now empty shelves.

With a list in hand she apparates to Diagon Alley and makes stop after stop to collect anything she needs. At one point she even ventures into Knockturn alley for a few . . . _regulated_ potion ingredients.

She's stepping back out to Diagon Alley with boxes upon boxes when her foot catches a loose stone. She stumbles and manages to keep most of her purchases in hand.

Three of her parcels fall to the floor but a passerby is quick to grab them for her.

"Thank you," she says, "I almost lost--oh."

"Granger," Malfoy greets.

He's looking extremely well put together as usual, making her hyper-aware of the potion stains on the sleeves of her shirt and her hair pulled up in a barely contained braid.

Then she remembers he's Draco Malfoy and she shouldn't care what he thinks of her.

"I didn't expect to be seeing you anytime soon. Was it only yesterday I was locked in your dungeon?"

He gives her a chagrin smile. "Well I meant to give you a few days to cool off but I couldn't walk past a damsel in distress."

She takes back the parcels he picked up with more force than necessary. "I'm not going to listen to anything you have to say." She walks away, adding, "Your parents deserve what they got."

"And more," Malfoy agrees, falling into step with her. "Thank you for not sending them to Azkaban all the same."

"You're welcome," she says crisply. "Now if you don't mind I've got errands to run."

"Can I help? You're running out of arm space."

She's inclined to say no but she knows it will only delay him for a short while, might as well let him say what he needs to say and be done with it.

"Let's have tea," she decides.

He smiles for real this time. It looks good on him.

**oOoOo **Draco **oOoOo**

Draco doesn't doubt Granger choose Rosa Lee Teabag purely to make him squirm. Little does she know he's utterly at easy in this frilly pink environment having been dragged here many times as a teenager by Pansy.

Once they've taken their seats and place their order Draco finds himself staring at the curled strands sticking out of her braid.

They dance and sway everytime the door lets in the autumn breeze.

She must notice him staring because she grabs the braid and tosses it over her shoulder and tries to smooth strays away from her face.

"Dragon scales are illegal," he says, forcing himself to stop staring at her.

She glances down and sees he has a clear view into one of her shopping bags and closes it. "Not technically."

He scoffs. "The law states the buying or selling of any endangered species is punishable by a six month sentence to Azkaban."

"Dragons shed their scales. Besides, I didn't buy them, they were a gift--"

"From Borgin who will be receiving a 'birthday present' from you tomorrow by owl," he finishes. "I know how it works, I'm a Malfoy after all."

Their waitress returns with a tray and pour them both their tea, leaving the pot at the table.

Draco dumps four spoonfuls of sugar into his tea.

"If you weren't going to seek me out to plead your parents case then why did you want to see me? Don't tell me you're going to propose again."

He cringes at the memory of his first 'proposal'. Luckily he's not here for that at all. "I wanted to apologize for the way my parents treated you. They are . . . used to getting their own way."

She nods, accepting his apology. They both know she can't expect an apology from his parents.

Draco toys with the handle of his teacup and cautiously says, "I also was hoping we could send time together. I'm going to go insane with only my parents to talk to. I could use a good friend like you."

She stiffens. "You have friends."

"I've never had friends, only acquaintances. None of whom I've spoken to in years. You're one of the only people I've had a normal conversation with in months. I enjoy your company."

He can't guess what she's thinking but the set of her jaw tells him she's not inclined to accept his offer. he shudders at the thought of having to spend all his time with his parents.

"Please, I am _begging_ you to take pity on me. You took pity on my father and he didn't even deserve it!"

"I'm not sure you do either," she replies. "You may not have been party to my kidnapping and yes you tried to help me out of the dungeon but that doesn't make you a good person."

Ah yes, he can see why she's reluctant.

"I have spent the last four years of my life getting away from the influences in my childhood. I underwent some serious self exploration," he explains, hoping she can see truth of his words. "So much so, in fact, I'd argue you don't really know me at all. I don't really know you either. All I'm proposing is we get to know to know each other."

She frowns but her Gryffindor chivalry wins out and she says, "How should we start?"

"By finishing our tea?" he suggests, his posture relaxing.

After a few failed attempts at conversation they find common ground on the topic of upcoming re-election for the prime minister.

They both agree that it's time for a new minister.

"Shacklebolt maintained order after the fall of Voldemort but with everything settled down his harsh approaches to law and punishment are no longer necessary," Draco says.

"What people need now more than order, is hope," she agrees adamantly. "Hope for the future."

"Potter would be a shoe-in," Draco says, thoroughly surprising her. "What? I'm perfectly capable of separating my personal feelings from politics."

"Do you still hate Harry?" she asks, her eyes sharpening.

"No, but I don't like him either."

The person Draco used to be is like a bad dream to him now. One he prefers not to think about. That was much easier to do when he didn't have to look at the faces of his shameful past.

"I am sorry about the way I treated you back at Hogwarts. I wasn't trying to--actually, I _was _trying to belittle you. I was an angry kid, full of hate, and you were . . . so easy to hate."

She raises an eyebrow. "You're not very good at apologizing."

"No, I mean you were smarter than me, you were muggle-born, and you were friends with Harry Potter. These things were all the justification I needed to lash out at you. I was raised to be the best but no matter how hard I tried I was never better than you. It was wrong of me to pick on you, wrong of me to call you what I did. I am truly sorry."

There's another silence and he fears what she will do. Maybe she'll throw the boiling tea in his face, maybe she'll punch him, maybe she'll yell at him. Or . . . maybe she'll walk away without a word, deciding he's not worth it.

Maybe Draco Malfoy has done too much sin for even Hermione's bleeding heart to care for.

"I accept your apology--on one condition. Come with me to the Burrow Thursday night. Mrs. Weasley is throwing a dinner party and you can be my plus one."

"I can do that."

She beams at him. Her smile thaws the icy fear in his chest.


	9. Chapter 9 I Hate A Lot of Things

**CHAPTER 9 I HATE A LOT OF THINGS**

The owl is back again. Hermione opens the window to let him in but not fast enough. The bird flaps his wings impatiently. And hops inside with an indignant hoot.

"Relax, I have food for you this time." She feeds it a treat and takes the envelope that is again marked with the Malfoy Crest.

_Granger,_

_Regarding tomorrow's dinner at the Burrow, do you know what hostess gift Mrs. Weasley will appreciate? I have narrowed it down to a bouquet of hydrangeas or a French wine._

_In crisis,_

_Draco Malfoy_

She smiles at the letter. Gods, he's so helpless.

She scribbles back a quick note and sends it off with the owl.

_Mrs. Weasley would hate both of those things. If you'd like I can meet you in Diagon alley and help you prepare a fruit basket._

After a few more exchanged letters they plan to meet there in an hour, giving Hermione plenty of time to finish up her work before she apparates there.

Once there she's nervous about spending intentional one on one time with Malfoy but it turns out she doesn't need to worry. Once they meet the time spent picking out fruits is surprisingly mundane, like a casual afternoon she'd spend with Harry or Ron.

He's very stiff and awkward at first but after a few minutes he seems to relax and even smile a few times. Hermione is almost ashamed to admit it, but he's actually pretty funny as well.

When they've finished up Hermione walks with Draco back to the main part of Diagon alley and watches him climb onto the broom he took to get here.

He offers to take her home.

"No," she says, too quickly.

"Are you doubting my skills?" he asks, lifting his chin. "I'll have you know I've been flying since I was a child."

"No, it's not that."

He frowns. "You're afraid of flying?"

"I'm afraid of falling," she corrects.

"That settles it then, because I'm not going to let you fall."

"I'm not dressed for a broom ride," she reasons, drawing attention to her skirt.

"Tomorrow then. I'll take you by broom to the Weasley's."

"Or we can apparate like normal people."

**oOoOo**

Malfoy arrives at her house right on time the next day. Hermione grabs her coat and steps out, eyeing his broom.

He raises an eyebrow at her navy skirt. "How do you expect to ride wearing that?"

"As I recall I never actually agreed to a broom ride." She gestures to her open front door. "Just leave it inside and you can grab it after dinner."

"Nope," he replies, hoping onto the broom. "You'll have to ride sideways now."

"That's even more dangerous!" she protests.

He grins but it loosens when he sees she really is panicked. "Seriously Granger, it's fine. You can control how fast we go and everything. I will not let you fall."

She's oddly reassured by the sincerity in his voice. I mean, this Draco Malfoy, who laughed at Neville when he fell off his broom first year.

"Yes, alright. But _I'm _holding the fruitbasket. I want you with two hands on the broom."

He scoots back and she takes a seat in front, angling herself slightly towards him to greatly reduce the risk of her skirt flying up.

She pulls the fruit basket into her lap and then they're off. At first she thinks she'll hold onto some semblance of her pride but the second their feet leave the ground she wraps an arm around him and buries her face into his chest, determined not to look down.

Despite what she said about him having two hands on the broom, one of them is wrapped securely around her waist and she is *so* not complaining.

"Too fast?" he asks loudly.

"No, the sooner sooner we're back on the ground the better. Go faster."

He laughs, though she feels it more than hears it.

Once they're back on solid ground she mutters a curse and nearly drops the fruit basket in her hurry to come off the broom.

"I don't understand why it's got you so afraid, you rode a dragon out of Gringotts."

"I didn't enjoy that either," she replies with sniff. She hands him the fruit basket and notices his shirt is wrinkled from her holding on too tight.

Serves him right.

"Come on, we don't want to be late or you'll end up sitting next to someone you don't know."

"Or worse, someone I do know."

They've landed on a little hill some five minutes walk from the Burrow which they have a very clear view of.

As they begin their walk she sees him become stiff, his posture impeccable, a cold mask falling over his face.

She's learning that whenever he's nervous or uncertain his default mode is the achingly formal demeanor he was raised on.

"Relax Malfoy, it's just dinner with friends. They already know your coming."

The front door is pulled open before Hermione even has time to knock. Mrs. Weasley smile grandly and pulls Hermione into a warm hug. "Oh, Hermione dear, come in, come in, we're only waiting on Charlie and Fleur now. Draco, it nice to see you."

Much to Hermione's surprise, Mrs. Weasley gives Malfoy a warm hug as well which leaves him so startled Hermione has to nudge him in order to prompt a response.

"Thank you for having me," he says after a beat. "These are for you."

"Oh, how lovely! Thank you." She throws her head back and hollers, "Arthur, come welcome our guests!"

Mr. Weasley pops out in through the back door directly opposite the front door. "Sorry dear I was just having another discussion with Harry about cellphone."

He comes over and shakes Hermione's hand, then gets a look at her plus one.

Hermione of course told everyone ahead of time who she was bringing in order to avoid a scene.

Mr. Weasley pauses only a moment before shaking Malfoy's hand enthusiastically. "Always good to have new faces."

"Everyone's out back, go claim yourselves a seat."

Out back is a familiar scene for Hermione that has a grin spreading on her face. All the Wesley's are seated at an extra long table along with their significant others and are talking loudly, sneaking bread off the table, and spreading gossip about workplace romances.

Hermione is welcomed loudly and Malfoy is given stiff, if not formal greetings. They're ushered to the table, seated across from each other and conversations continue as if nothing's amiss.

Once Charlie and a very pregnant Fleur arrive they're ready to start their dinner and in the blink of an eye the grand array of food is being mauled by twenty hands.

"Better get some of those potatoes quick Malfoy," Ron says through a mouthful of food, "Ginny's going to eat it all if no one stops her."

Hermione glances at Malfoy and giggles at the look of minor horror on his faces. The table manners here do not extend past please and thank you, a far cry from the upscale dinners he's attended.

To his credit Malfoy does as he sees, grabbing food within reach and immediately digs in, earning silent approval from most of the Weasley's.

Ginny and Mr. Weasley suck Malfoy into a conversation that spans the entire length of dinner and after seeing he's doing fine, Hermione relaxes and starts grilling Bill on his various methods for curse breaking.

After dinner everyone slowly trickles inside, some in the kitchen, some in the living room. Hermione is in the kitchen when Ron and Harry finally get her alone.

"Can we talk to you for a minute?"

"Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong," Harry replies, fiddling with his glasses. "We're just concerned about Malfoy."

She explained to the both of them about the events leading up to today and they had been as shocked and infuriated as her about the whole proposal/dungeon thing.

"I've told you two already, I believe Malfoy is trying to turn a new leaf. Harry you of all people should know people can change. Your own father was a lot like Malfoy when he was in school."

Harry flushes. "Well yeah, but--"

"It's not that we don't trust your judgment," Ron interjects, but we are worried you're not thinking this all the way through."

"What if he's just here trying to butter you up so you'll marry him?" Harry's says.

"He's here because I made it conditional upon my acceptance of his apology for the things he called me back at Hogwarts," Hermione counters.

"Come on, he's clearly not enjoying himself. Look at him!"

Hermione peers through the kitchen entrance into the living room. Malfoy is sitting on a lumpy arm chair with his back back as a straight as a pencil, not saying a word despite Mr. Weasley talking his ear off.

"We just want you to be careful with him," Harry says.

"I will be," she promises.

They let the subject be and she's both warmed knowing they are looking out for her and even more touched that after making their concerns known to her they trust her to make her decisions.

Hermione is ashamed to admit that in the company of her good friends she forgot about Malfoy. Honestly sometimes she wonders what she ever did to deserve these two. They saved her from a mountain troll and have been looking out for her ever since, though many tend to overlook that bit. Yes, she saved their lives countless times but they have always returned the favor in kind.

For then half hour she stays close to Malfoy and actively tries to engage him in the group conversations but he's quiet, never speaking more than two sentences in a row.

At the end of the night as they walk back up the hill where he left his broom. He's relaxed again, she's glad to see he's at least comfortable around her.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" she asks, hoping for the best.

"It was interesting," he replies carefully.

She deflates. "You hated it, didn't you? You could hardly stand to be in the same room as them for more than an hour at a time."

"It was a lot."

Annoyed at his vague response, she tries to press for more. "Harry and Ron think you're only hanging around in order to get me to accept your proposal. You hate the Weasley's so there's no other reason for you to be here."

"Do you think that too?"

When she doesn't reply he sighs and says, "I hate a lot of things; like over-ripe bananas, being stared at when I walk down the street, and cheap robes. I _don't _hate the Weasley's, I envy them, in fact."

A sentence she never thought he'd utter in her wildest dreams.

"Really?"

"Or course I do, they did everything right. They fought for the good side and won. They're happy now and they deserve to be. Seeing them so happy makes me wonder how different my family would've turned out had we not made the choices we made."

It pains him to see a family so whole, she realizes.

"And as for the whole marriage thing, it was the furthest thing from my mind tonight. There's no time constraints on my curse, no matter how persistent my parents are about it. Honestly I'd prefer not to think about it ever again."

"You don't want to get married?" she asks, intrigued.

He lifts a shoulder in response. "Let's make a deal, shall we? As of now my blood curse doesn't exist. We don't talk about it, we don't think about it."

"Deal," she replies.

She'd like to be able to spend time with him without the blood curse looming over them all the time. She wants to learn about him, as she's already seen, he's a complex person, as she's enjoying learning new things about him.

He deserves true friends in his life just like everyone does and it's really no fair for her to be questioning his motives all the time.

"You know something Malfoy? Something tells me we are going to be fast friends."

He does this lopsided sort of smile and she grins in response. She likes making him smile.


End file.
